


A Shot of Scotch

by padawanhilary, Telesilla



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-11-22
Updated: 2002-11-22
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/padawanhilary/pseuds/padawanhilary, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telesilla/pseuds/Telesilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two actors, a bottle of fine unfiltered scotch and things go on from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Shot of Scotch

Liam let the towel drop from his face, grimacing a bit as the last of glue from the beard pulled at his skin. Christ, he was tired. All the fighting training in the world didn't really prepare you for being dumped on your arse in a damp patch of ground by another actor in a rubber suit.

_Now if it were Ewan landing on top of me...._

But no, best let that thought die right there. To be sure there were rumors about his co-star, but Liam made a point of not believing rumors, given how untrue the many rumors about himself were.

_I invited him over for the scotch,_ he thought looking at the bottle of 25 year old unfiltered single malt on the small table, _and nothing but the scotch._ He gazed at the two hopeful glasses sitting with the bottle and then tilted his head back, closing his eyes. At some point he'd have to get the damned wig off and actually pour the scotch, but for now he was just too tired.

A somewhat tentative knock on made him catch his breath, but he covered his nervousness with the skill of long practice. "Come in," he called out tiredly.

"Liam?" A soft voice, with just the touch of the Scottish burr that Liam himself had had to learn at one point. From himself, he mused, it sounded forced. From a genuine Scot, particularly this one, it sounded lovely.

Without opening his eyes, Liam gestured to the scotch. "Thanks for coming by. I've got some very good stuff from your part of the world and thought I might share it with someone who'd appreciate it."

He heard the door close and slitted his eyes open, trying not to catch his breath at the sight of the other man who hovered, grinning widely, in front of the door. Ewan hadn't been filming as late as Liam had and had already changed into normal clothes: snug jeans that left little to the imagination, trainers and that damned shirt. The green one that said "blunt" on it and that did amazing things to Ewan's eyes. Liam gestured to the bottle and, still grinning, Ewan grabbed it and looked at the label.

"_Te Bheag_," he said, the Gaelic rolling off his tongue easily. "You _do_ know your scotch." He filled the two glasses halfway and handed one to Liam. Deftly avoiding the heat of Ewan's fingers, Liam took the glass and slanted it in the other man's direction. Ewan saluted him in kind and they each silently took a sip, the complex, earthy fire burning its way down Liam's throat.

"Thanks," he replied to Ewan's comment after the small reverential pause good liquor deserved. "Why make money if you can't spend it on the good stuff?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, falling back on an equally easy subject. "Fuck, this is hard work." He could hear his own accent coming to the fore, as it inevitably did in times of fatigue and nervous tension.

_Both of which seem to be happening here,_ he thought, just a little amused at himself.

"Oh, God, this is good," Ewan sighed. "I love unfiltered scotch." He glanced around, obviously looking for a place to sit. "Yeah, it's the blue screens; they're hell."

Having seen Ewan's trailer, which tended to look as if a hurricane had struck it, Liam didn't feel too bad about his own ... comfortable space. He gestured to the unfortunately short bed. "Just throw the clothes on the floor." He took another sip of his scotch. "It's not just the blue screens, though God knows they're fucking awful, but damn, Ahmed is no light weight. And we had to hit the ground about 50 times today before George was happy with it. I think my arse has permanent bruising."

He watched, amused, as Ewan snickered and then conscientiously put the clothes on the table. He then sat down on the bed, taking up his glass and drinking again before he spoke.

"I think the action's the best part. I don't like doing it in empty sets though." Ewan shook his head, smiling. "It's fucking Star Wars." Something about his tone summed up the complex feelings Liam had about the project. Yes, it was a pain in the ass--sometimes literally--yes, it was technically hard, and yes, the dialog left a great deal to be desired, but ... yeah, it was fucking Star Wars.

"Yeah, 'tis," he said, chuckling. "And I don't mind, really. The money is good, the movie will be seen by millions, and," he paused to grin at Ewan, who was nodding with each point Liam made, "it gives me a chance to work with 'the young Turk of independent British film acting.'"

Ewan's eyes went wide and then he laughed, a little ... nervously? No, it couldn't be nerves. "Oh for..." He shook his head and downed the rest of his scotch.

"That's what Rick called you when he was talking about the cast with me."

"Fucking Rick."

Liam fought back a laugh. "You don't work in Hollywood often enough, you lucky bastard. It's full of people like Rick. Always so easy with the compliments." He paused a moment to finish his own scotch. When he spoke his voice was more serious. "I am glad we're working together, though. Rehearsals are one thing, but it's good to know we can do it in front of the camera as well."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's good working with you. It's easier to be in front of the camera with someone who _knows._" He looked up and grinned again, and Liam quite lost his train of thought. Did Ewan have any idea what that easy grin did to people, or was he just that natural and comfortable with his own presence? As someone who had had to work a bit to cultivate his own air of lazy sensuality, Liam was impressed regardless.

He tried to hide it, raising a brow. "Knows?" His hand rose in a familiar nervous gesture, but he stopped himself before he could complete the move. "Fuckin' wig." He pulled the thing off quickly and then ran his hand through his somewhat shaggy hair. "Knows what?"

Ewan spoke almost carefully, waving his hand. "You know, how it's _really_ supposed to be. How it's the movie, the process. Fuck," he laughed shortly, "I keep hearing about how my face is going to be on chicken boxes and fucking Pepsi cans."

Ewan rose to his feet, took the bottle off the table, and filled his glass. He held the bottle toward Liam, looking at him questioningly.

"Please." Liam took a sip after Ewan filled his glass and laughed. "You mean we're not just stand-ins for what George will later re-shoot in the cutting room? I'm having fun here, but still ... I've never been in something quite like this. I was warned, but until you're really in the middle of it, you can't know." He thought of the conversation he'd had with Patrick Stewart at some New York party or other. "You think Pepsi cans are bad. Wait until there are action figures."

Ewan seemed almost at a loss for words as he sat down again. Liam had seen this pose in rehearsal, legs spread feet flat on the floor, leaning slightly on his elbows. If it was effective in Jedi robes, it was devastating in jeans and a t-shirt.

"I'm sorry," Liam murmured. "I shouldn't complain; you're going through it too.

"No," another careless wave of Ewan's hand, "It'll be good in the end. He's gonna let me keep the lightsaber." Ewan shot Liam a wicked grin, like a spoiled child getting his way yet again.

Swallowing hard, Liam had to look away, and when he glanced down at his lap he was almost surprised to see that he was still in costume. He smiled and unhooked his lightsaber hilt in a gesture that was quickly becoming second nature. He flourished it briefly, very quietly making the humming noise he, Ewan and Ray had been unable to resist when they'd first started training. "After months, I still feel like a kid with this thing." He set it down on the table, still trying not to look at Ewan. He almost had to shake himself visibly when he realized that he'd been stroking the saber lightly.

_Oh very subtle, Liam,_ he admonished himself. _Why not just put the damn thing in your mouth?_

He looked up to catch Ewan, who looked like nothing more than a deer in the headlights, quickly turn his head. "Yeah, me too," Ewan breathed, then gulped down his scotch. Liam cursed himself for making the other man nervous.

Liam reached for the bottle and then for Ewan's glass at the same time Ewan held the glass out. Their fingers brushed and Liam had to battle to act as if it were nothing.

_It is nothing for Christ's sake,_ he berated himself.

"Yeah," Ewan replied. "Thanks. Ah... so. D'you think you might..." and he gestured toward Liam in a way that managed to encompass the Jedi robe and tunics Liam still wore. "I'll wait, if you want to. You know. Change."

Liam stared at him for a moment, unable to decide if this was a response to his own clumsy come-on or if Ewan was just being ... well nice. He knocked back the rest of his scotch, relishing the burn at the back of his throat and then stood.

"Yeah, think I should. I was too tired when we quit earlier." He stripped off the robe and let it fall over the chair before moving to the other end of the trailer. He fumbled a minute with the belt before it come unbuckled. "The kilt," he said, chuckling a little nervously, "was fucking easier." He tossed the belt on the table, and then unwound the sash; next, the complicated stole-like thing, and then the tunics. He shoved the suspenders off his shoulders and pulled off the last thin tunic.

"I had a great fucking time with the dress in Grave," Ewan said, and Liam felt his face go hot as he thought of Ewan in a short black dress and makeup, rolling around on the floor with his co-star. "These costumes don't bother me. It's the hair." Liam turned to see Ewan run a hand through his short "padawan cut," and there was something so unselfconscious about the gesture that Liam let the words in his head pop right out of his mouth.

"That dress looked bloody good on you." He blinked and looked away again, trying to ignore the heat in his groin brought on by Ewan's presence. "Well you know ... I hadn't seen Shallow Grave until I knew you were cast for this. It was good work." He thought of himself discovering Ewan's beauty through his body of work, the whippet thin Mark Renton, the tragically young Julien Sorel, the charming bastard Alex Law, the confused Jerome, and the flamboyantly gay Curt Wild.

He could almost hear the gulp as Ewan swallowed another mouthful of scotch. "Well...," the other man almost squeaked. "It was early, y'know, early work. It was a good time."

 

Almost angry with himself for acting like some star-struck teenager, at his age, Liam repeated himself as he bent over to tug one boot off. "It was good work." He took a deep breath, once more glad that all the buckles on Qui-Gon's boots were strictly for show and that the boot itself would slide off with the right tug. Ewan's mere presence in so small a space had him glad for the excuse of the boots to bend over.

_Christ, I want him._

"Thanks," Ewan said sounding embarrassed. "I--uh. Liked Rob Roy. Was it easier? Than this, I mean?"

Liam straightened up and suddenly the scotch they'd been drinking caught up with him and he caught himself from swaying. "It was just as physical but not as technical. And it's fucking gorgeous country." He reached for the Scottish accent and the speech patterns, so like and yet so unlike those he'd grown up with. "As you well know, Ewan McGregor."

He almost frowned as Ewan seemed to shiver, but then the motion was gone quickly, leaving Liam to believe he'd imagined it.

"Too fucking right," Ewan said, then downed the rest of his scotch and set the glass on the table. "Fuck that's good. I haven't had unfiltered in years. Best of all, that."

Liam smiled, almost taking heart from the fact that Ewan sounded as nervous as Liam himself felt. "Discovered it when I was filming Rob. You should see Jessica slam it back." He sat in the chair with almost a thump to begin addressing the problem of his second boot.

_Smooth, Liam,_ he told himself, running a hand through his hair in the one nervous gesture he'd never managed to lose. _Not good to mention a former lover around someone you want to be ... what, a lover? A casual sex partner? Make it just someone I want._

"Liam..." Ewan began in a tone of voice that said 'enough's enough' and then he laughed and shook his head. "Fuck."

Taking heart from Ewan's tone of voice and that confused little laugh, Liam leaned forward. "What is it, Ewan?"

Ewan put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up, looking just a little unsteady when he got to his feet. "I ... ah ... had too much, I think. Just...." He shook his head again. "Dizzy." As if to walk off the fumes or something, he began to pace the small trailer, making Liam even more aware of the younger man's manic energy.

"Okay, what the fuck's happening here," Ewan began again as Liam held his breath, "because I just...." He stopped and ran his hands through his hair and then left them there, clutching his head and speaking quietly almost as if speaking to himself. "I can _not_ be making this up."

Liam rose to his feet, ready to act on what he'd been thinking--and already half-acting on--all night. Hell, for the last couple of months. "We can blame it all on the scotch or...." He gulped a little nervously, hoping that the rumors he'd heard about Ewan were true. Too late to worry about that. When he resumed speaking it was all in rush and he could hear his brogue becoming more pronounced. "You could turn around and fuckin' kiss me, yeah?

Ewan froze and Liam felt his heart try to claw its way out of his chest.

"Yeah," came the barely voiced whisper and then Ewan was almost falling into Liam, his arms going around Liam's waist to span the small of his back. He lifted his head and their mouths met firmly, each opening to the pressure of the other's lips almost immediately. As Liam kissed him leisurely, he realized that Ewan tasted smoky like the scotch, but better, so much better than any liquor. Ewan made a satisfied, seemingly grateful noise and almost seemed to struggle to keep the speed of the kiss slow.

_As if he wants so much that matching my pace is difficult,_ Liam thought as he pulled back just a bit. "God," he said aloud, "and you're in such a rush too. I was so nervous."

This time Ewan's laugh sounded genuine and unforced. "You were?!" He put a hand on Liam's chest companionably, leaning toward him, then, affecting the plummy tones of the young Alec Guinness, he said: "Well, Master, what do you suppose should happen now?"

That voice ... that word spoken in that voice....

"Fuck," Liam said, his own voice sounding rough in comparison. "When you first said that ... I ... Jaysus Ewan...." The words weren't there so he simply bent and kissed Ewan again, this time more forcefully and urgently.

It almost undid Liam when Ewan whimpered quietly, sliding his hand over Liam's chest and up to his neck, just touching him. He was standing awkwardly and Liam realized he was trying to keep his erection out of contact. Once more Liam found strength in Ewan's sudden shyness.

"What do you want right now, Ewan?" he asked, determined not to push for too much.

"I...." Ewan began seemingly at a loss. He closed his eyes and put his hands in the waistband of Liam's pants, tugging his hips forward. "Something done about that would be fucking outstanding." He leaned forward, resting his head on Liam's shoulder, just breathing hard for a moment. "Fuck..." he whispered, more a prayer than a curse.

Liam, far more sure of himself now things had come this far, reached down and ran the heel of his hand firmly, yet not too hard, along the bulge in Ewan's jeans. Delighted to discover that Ewan was wearing button fly jeans, he began to unfasten them. "These feel a little tight, yeah?"

"Yeah," Ewan gasped, his hands still gripping the waistband of Liam's pants. He raised his head to kiss Liam again, obviously struggling to keep the kiss slow and easy.

_He's trying to tailor his style to mine,_ Liam realized, feeling an odd wave of tenderness wash over him. "Fuck," he said aloud, his mouth moving against Ewan's as he spoke. "Are you always this ... hungry? I like that," he added quickly, lest Ewan think he was criticizing him. He kissed Ewan again, trying to match the intensity that fairly vibrated off the younger man.

He finally got all of the buttons on Ewan's jeans undone and then stopped for a moment to enjoy what he discovered. "And do you normally go regimental or was this for me?" Crisp curls and hard, silken flesh and oh, the idea that Ewan had come here bare beneath his jeans made Liam's cock harden even more.

Ewan swallowed and closed his eyes, looking almost vulnerable. "I just hoped..." He slid one hand over the front of Liam's leggings and stroked up and down steadily, biting back a moan. "That's ... ah ... my God...."

Liam let his own moan escape, pushing into Ewan's hand eagerly, his own hand wrapping around Ewan's rather sizable erection. "And I thought ... ohhh ... it was impressive when you weren't hard." He began to stroke, searching for the right rhythm.

Ewan's hand fumbled at the front of Liam's pants, getting them open after a moment. Liam moaned again as Ewan began to gently pet his cock, teasing it as his other hand roamed over Liam's chest, finding his already hard nipples. As Liam continued to stroke his cock, Ewan whimpered, thrusting his hips. "That's--oh fuck Liam, that's good."

"Fuck yeah...." Liam replied hoarsely as Ewan's hand moved more firmly on his cock. "You're ... so beautiful...."

Liam let out a startled grunt as Ewan leaned forward to lick at one of his nipples. He could feel the quick, hot puffs of air on his wet skin as Ewan spoke. "Y'know--the bed...."

"Uh ... right," Liam replied, more than a little incoherent as they somehow moved the two steps necessary to reach the bed. He pulled away from Ewan enough to sit down and suddenly began to laugh. When Ewan sat next to him and looked at him curiously he waved a hand at himself. "Christ, look at me." He reached down to tug off his remaining boot as Ewan laughed and flopped backwards, folding his legs up to tug off his trainers and socks. Liam could almost feel the other man's gaze on him as Ewan squirmed his way out of the tight jeans. His heart seemed to want to hammer its way out of his chest, but he managed to get rid of his own pants and underwear.

He turned back to Ewan in time to help him out of his t-shirt and once more caught his breath at the sheer stunning good looks of the man in bed with him. Oh yes, there had been other men in Liam's life, but Ewan was, by far, the most beautiful. And that cock.... "Lovely," he breathed as he reached down to stroke it with a firm hand.

Ewan moaned as he reached for Liam's cock, sliding his hand over it rather distractedly as he stared at Liam, his eyes moving over the other man's body with delight. Liam smiled back at him, well aware that although he was not in Ewan's class of beauty, he had his own rugged charm.

Then Ewan was moaning again, tugging Liam's head down for a kiss, rocking his hips steadily with each stroke of Liam's hand. The moans turned higher pitched and needy, muffled against Liam's lips, and the rhythm of Ewan's hand on Liam's cock became erratic as the younger man's body tensed.

Liam let the kiss grow more intense, brining his free hand up to lightly pinch at one already tight nipple. "Let me see it," he breathed against Ewan's lips. "C'mon Ewan ... do it for me."

Almost as if Liam's words were an order rather than a request, Ewan shuddered suddenly and gasped. He let out a series of broken cries and his hips jerked as he came, one hand digging into Liam's shoulder hard.

"Oh yeah," Liam said, his voice husky. "Fuckin' gorgeous." He'd always loved to watch people at the moment of release, often holding back his own climax in order to see his lovers in this most intimate moment--and Ewan was truly gorgeous, both during his orgasm and now after it, flushed and debauched looking.

Ewan lay boneless for a moment, his hand resting lightly on Liam's thigh before he apparently remembered that his partner had yet to come. "Ah...." He moved to get up and then looked down at himself and grimaced.

"You look fine," Liam almost growled, dropping his hand to rest it on Ewan's. He applied a little pressure, trying to encourage. "Debauched ... wanton...."

Ewan shivered and made an incoherent noise before he spoke. "No. It's not...." He looked at himself again and then at their hands, still wrapped around Liam's cock. "Fuck."

He pulled his hand out of Liam' and sat up, crawling over Liam and forcing him down onto his back on the bed. A little stunned by the fire in those amazing eyes, Liam couldn't help the long drawn out moan that escaped him as Ewan scooted down on the bed and took Liam's cock into his mouth in one long smooth movement.

"Fuck!" he gasped as Ewan's mouth moved down over his erection slowly. "Oh God...."

Ewan moaned, bringing his tongue into play as he began to move his head, his hand coming up to pump the base of Liam's shaft. Liam could feel himself tensing, his whole body nothing but screaming nerve endings centered on his cock. He felt a vague sense of surreality as he looked down to see Ewan working over him steadily. It was so good, Ewan's mouth was so hot and talented and....

"Oh yeah...." Liam dug his hands into the covers, trying to choke out some kind of warning. "Christ Ewan ... I'm gonna...."

Ewan nodded slightly in acknowledgment then moaned around his cock, causing a vibration that Liam felt clear to his toes. His head moved faster as Liam gave in to the sensation, groaning long and low as he came, resisting the temptation to thrust hard into the hot slick oval of Ewan's mouth.

Ewan moaned again and swallowed several times, finally raising his head and wiping the corner of his mouth with the heel of his hand, a devilishly smug smile on his face. Liam panted and managed a smile in return as Ewan turned and found a towel in the pile of clothing on the table. He scrubbed his own stomach and chest off before once more lying on the bed. He moved over Liam, kissing at his chest and throat eagerly making odd little happy noises.

Liam chuckled weakly and pulled Ewan close. "That was ... damn you're good."

Ewan nestled into his arms, reminding Liam of nothing so much as a pleased puppy. A puppy with a wide grin and faint Scottish accent. "Thanks. I'm glad you liked it."

"God," Liam said thinking that "liked it" was more than a bit of an understatement. "I was so damned nervous. I ... well, I'm not always good at reading signals."

"You were nervous?" Ewan raised his head, an expression of surprise on his face. "I was petrified! You have this--presence--I kept seeing things and then wondering if I saw them 'cause I wanted them to be true." He laughed and dropped his forehead to Liam's shoulder.

"So," Liam said cautiously, "no ... weirdness?"

Ewan shook his head, his short hair brushing Liam's neck intriguingly. "No, s'fine."

Liam groped on the table for his cigarettes. As he offered one to Ewan, he couldn't help remembering their first read-through, months ago. "Mr. McGregor?" he said as he lit their cigarettes, echoing the words he'd spoken then.

"Yes, Mr. Neeson?" Ewan replied after a long drag.

"I'm going to enjoy working with you."

_-end-_


End file.
